The Western Warrior (西部の 戦士)
by AkaSenshi
Summary: The story follows an English Knight who is forced to set out on a Crusade, but ends up finding a new life for himself and confronting troubles of the past. This story is loosely based on a myth that has stuck with me from childhood: a mysterious warrior coming from another land.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first story I've ever put online for others to read. It might take a little while for the story to get interesting, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

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 **The Western Warrior**

 **Chapter One**

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Sir Richard always loved the sound of horse steps on the worn dirt path, and the gentle sway of the horse as it plods along. On the warm days and with a cool breeze, he loved it most. Today was of those days; the sunlight danced around the leaves of the trees that lined the path, and you could faintly hear people at work in the village of Riverspring. Sir Richard Hill is the third son of Lord Edmund Hill; the Lord who owns the village and the surrounding one thousand acres of land. Up ahead was Lake Castle, the seat of House Hill. In reality, it's barely a castle; only a manor house and an eight foot high curtain wall. As Sir Richard arrives in the courtyard, his brother, William was waiting for him. "Richard, where have you been? Father has been asking after you."

Dismounting from his horse, he seemed smaller; he had always looked his age when upon his courser. Richard was about six foot tall, dark hair, and had a well-shaped face for a twenty year-old. "I was out for a ride, brother. I went down to ride around Riverspring on such a fine day. What is it that father wants?" Richard asked.

William looked at Richard with a hint of snobbery, as William was first-born and heir to their father. "There's a letter; with a golden seal… Father's waiting for you in the hall - brother -" William said with a mocking sense of affection.

Striding into the hall, Richard is comforted by the familiarities of home. The hall is cosy; it has pillars lining the approach to a raised platform where a table and the seat of House Hill resides. The walls are made out cobblestone and wood, they're draped in tapestries and banners with the House colours of green and yellow. As he enters, he sees Lord Edmund Hill on the seat of House Hill with a letter in hand. "Father." Richard proclaims.

Lord Edmund looks up, slouched in the great chair that is centuries old, one solid piece of wood carved from a great oak tree with intricate decorations carved into it and the sigil of House Hill, a shield bearing a sword with three stars surrounding it in a halo. He is frail for his age of forty, signs of age clearly showing upon him. "Ah, Richard. Come, there is a letter here from the King. A crusade has been called to purge infidels from the Holy lands. I expect you, as my third son, and seasoned commander, to go to the Holy lands and join the Great Army. You will not fail me on this." Lord Edmund spoke grimly.

Striding and then sits down facing his father, he looked upon in dismay. His father was sending him away to die by some infidels hand in some boiling hot desert half the world away. "But father, surely –" Richard was cut off by his Father.

"I will not hear it - my son -" Edmund spoke with strained anger "you will be going whether you want to or not. I have no place for you here anymore; you're third born to my name! You will never have this place as your own! Now go. Leave for port this nightfall. That is a command by your Liege Lord, obey it." Lord Edmund spat out his words like acid.

Shocked, Richard gets up from his chair and clenches his fist and slams it against his chest, over his heart. "Yes. My dearest father. I will go and die as you command." He says mockingly with his voice filled with anger to hide the great pain that his father had caused him. Richard sharply turns around and leaves only the echo's of his furious angered footsteps behind.

As promised by nightfall, Sir Richard Hill had donned his armour of mail, covered head to toe. A Surcoat of green and yellow with the house sigil upon his breast over the top of his mail. Also with his packed belongings, and seventeen hand high war horse he set of to port; the gateway to the Holy lands.


	2. Chapter 2

I couldn't leave you with just under a thousand words. The story is still getting started. Thanks to my friends for the proofreading and encouragement!

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 **The Western Warrior**

 **Chapter Two**

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The night is a lonely one, it is cold, dark, and all around him is just silence. The only noise is from the gentle movement of his mail as he rocks back and forth in the saddle to the swing of his horse. Richard can barely see in front of him, he can only make out around ten foot in front of him as he travels; he has to constantly check to make sure he is still on the road. As he is travelling, he can't help but think about what's happened: being forced into going on a crusade when he doesn't want to, being thrown out of his own home because he was the third child to his father. The members of House Hill only ever treated him with the basic levels of respect; never any true love or affection. The other brothers looked down upon him and Richard often fell victim to regular 'brotherly' fighting. That's why he became a knight and learnt how to command, and to also try and earn the respect of his father and siblings. However, Richard became a scarred knight after witnessing an awful act.

In the distance, an orange glow appears as he passes over the crest of a hill. It lights up the darkness all around him like a beacon. Slowly Richard can start to see outlines of an encampment with candles at each tent and banners raised high displaying the cross of the Crusaders. After travelling for three hours in the cold night, it is a welcome sight. Further into the encampment, the port can be seen. A small cluster of buildings surround a harbour with docks that're filled with ships donning the crusading cross. After passing the first few tents, he spots the local tavern and heads for it.

Richard reaches the tavern. It was three stories high with stables, and has a sign hanging over the door displaying a merman and a trident. As he dismounts and ties up his horse in the stables, he can already hear the noise from inside. Loud, thunderous voices all laughing and bellowing; even at three hours past nightfall. Richard opens the door and is hit with the heat rushing out to greet him and walks into the furnace. "I tell you, I, a humble master of fighting will kill a thousand infidels!" One man shouts in a crowd of soldiers that're all crammed onto a single bench. Suddenly, Richard feels someone grasping his left arm and he turns to face the person in anger. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!" Richard demands.

"I'm the tavern-keeper and I have asked and asked again if you wanted a room or not and you weren't answering!" The tavern-keeper shouts. He let's go of Richard's arm and looks at all of the finery that he is wearing.

Richard's anger cools and he looks at the middle-aged man who is plump with un-kept black long hair and beard to match. He leans towards the tavern-keeper so he can be heard. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear over the noise. I am Sir Richard Hill. I am joining the crusade and require a bed for the night. Is there room?" Richard asks over the ambient loud noises.

"Yes Sir, there is a room still free if you have the coin. It'll be costing you sixty coins. The room is just to my left, up the stairs and the first door on the right." The tavern-keeper said with such confidence and no sense of negotiation.

'Three times the cost for a single room for the night? This man certainly knows how to profit from a crusade.' Richard thought with only a slight sign of disgust making its way to his face. He opens his coin bag and starts counting them. "Fine. I'll pay your price for the night. I have a horse in the stable and expect him to be fed and ready to go in the morning." Richard puts sixty coins down in front of the tavern-keeper and walks off before the tavern-keeper can object.

The tavern bedroom is small, but the bed is suitable. There is a chest at the end of the bed and the bed itself is in the corner of the small rectangular room. Richard places his belongings in the chest and settles down to bed. Trying to block out the noises from downstairs he lays on his right side with his left arm pressed against his ear. After a while he drifts off to sleep.

In the morning as dawn broke, the tavern was peacefully quiet. Richard awoke and got dressed again in his armour and finery. Slowly packing up his belongings from the square chest with metal bandings to hold it together. Exiting his bedroom, he can already smell meat on the fire and other scents of food that he can't quite make out. Upon reaching downstairs, he sees two children hard at work behind the counter. "Begging your pardon Sir, would you like bread and some soup?" One of the children asked.

"Yes, thank you. Are you the tavern-keeper's children?" Richard asked as he sat down at a bench that the noisy soldiers were at last night. "Where are the rest of them? Those that were here last night."

The boys looked at each other for a second, then back to their work. "Yes, Sir. We are, our father owns the merman and trident." The child said. The other child who seemed slightly younger and clearly scruffier said "And the rest of them are getting aboard the ships for the Holy lands. It's just you here." Richard looks in a slight panic but the scruffy child adds "But my father has seen to your horse and has arranged passage for you on the largest ship in the harbour: the Invictus. They say she can traverse far beyond the known world and no storm can sink her!" He looks at the child with a sigh of relief.

"I expect this will come with a cost as well? Not just out of his generosity I presume?" His breakfast was set before him carefully by the older child, his hand left out and waiting for a tip.

"Of course, father said it'd only cost you an extra twenty coins, plus another thirty for his going out the way. It was the least he could do he said after you asking him to take care of your horse for you." The older boy said unaware of an act that resembled revenge for Richard having the last word with their father. Richard paid the child a tip and ate his food.

After breakfast, Richard heads out into the bright sunlight in search of the Invictus, she wasn't hard to find. She stood out from the other ships; Invictus loomed above the other ships and took up an entire side of the dock. Canvas sails with a crusading flag at the crow's nest proudly hanging with the flag of England hanging at the stern. There was multiple decks, one dedicated for rowers, one and a bit for cargo, and half a deck for crew. Above that, there was the main deck that was open to the air where archers and crossbowmen guarded and then the cabins for the Officers. Invictus was out of place here, in this small port with cobblestone roads and wharf with a small cluster of buildings forming a hamlet around the harbour. Everywhere there were barrels and cargo being loaded onto the ships, men already up and about, boarding the ships for the voyage.

Richard headed to dock of Invictus and saw the tavern-keeper with a man who looked so rugged it seemed as if not even the worst storm and sea swirls could faze him. "Ah, Sir Richard Hill. This is the Captain of this fine vessel" The tavern-keeper said.

The Captain looked at Sir Richard with curiosity in his eyes. "I'm Captain Bartholomew… So you're the knight who's made my crew move cargo around to fit that giant horse of yours? – And – make one of my Lieutenants sleep with the men?" Bartholomew said accusingly.

Taken back by the accusing tone of his voice, Richard had an almost shocked look about his face. "If this man" He points at the tavern-keeper. "Has arranged me passage on this ship to the Holy lands with my war horse; so I may join and aid in commanding the Great Army, yes, I am." The tone of his voice was very authoritive and final. "Now, there is a small issue of payment. Here is fifty coins tavern-keeper. You sort out whatever your arrangement is with Captain Bartholomew." And he handed over fifty coins to him.

Without a second glance, the Captain took his money from the tavern-keeper and he walked up the ramp with the Knight. As Richard reached the top, he turned around and called out to the tavern-keeper. "You certainly know how to make a profit from this crusade!" The tavern-keeper just smiled and called out "Yes, I do." And walked back to his tavern.


	3. Chapter 3

Finally starting to get my chapters longer, this is double that of the first two! I felt kind of bad that I had written and proofread most of this chapter, but not finished it; so today that's what I've done. It'll probably be a while until my next chapter; it's still in the planning phase... Saying that, I don't really plan anyway, I just write and hope for the best. Not the best way to write a story huh?

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 **The Western Warrior**

 **Chapter Three**

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The cabin was below deck, it was just a bit bigger than the one in the tavern. It had a proper bed, a chair and desk, and a chest with a lock. In the cabin, a sole lantern hung from a nail driven into the wooden wall just over the desk and the light from the lantern started to recede into darkness as it reached his bed; perfect for sleeping. Richard felt comfortable here, it was homely. He placed his belongings he had brought with him in the chest neatly, spare linens on the left hand side, food bowl, parchment, and three of his favoured books in the middle, leaving space for his armour on the right hand side. Unclasping his sword belt, he lays his sheathed sword on the desk. Next unclasping his utility belt that holds his secondary weapon, a mace, and his mail up; the weight of the mail now completely on his shoulder alone. He unties the lace at the back of his surcoat and pulls it off over his head and folds it up neatly, showing his sigil on the top. Then his mail coif, dumping it on the floor as he bends over and slides the mail hauberk off his chest and onto the floor; along with it his gambeson. At this point his chest is bare, leaving only his bottom half covered still in mail and clothing. At this time, he stops and lies down on the bed to relax for a while with his feet crossed.

Eyes closed, he drifts off to sleep, only to be woken by a crewman knocking on his door. "Sir" Richard's head shoots up to see who it is. The crewman enters. "Sir, it is time for dinner in the galley. We've set sail with the morning tide and been graced with good wind all day." The crewman says. He looks at the half dressed knight with a queer expression. "Also, Sir, you might want to not wear your armour aboard this ship. If by chance you are knocked over board, you will sink to the bottom of the ocean. It's best you leave it in that chest."

"Thank you crewman, I will heed your warning. Farewell." Richard said thankfully as the crewman left. Richard sat up on his bed and finished undressing himself. Placing his armour carefully in the chest and making sure to not squash his books or parchment. He then takes some clean linen and dresses. He takes his sword and leaves his cabin for the main deck. On his way, he passes the galley and takes a half loaf of bread and some strips of lamb. Invictus' stores hold a small amount of unsalted meat that gets eaten within the first few days at sea. He emerges on deck; a cool wind steadily blows into the sail and pushes the ship forward at a good pace. The deck is lit up with lanterns on the railings, castellations, and on the masts. Richard walks around the deck and eats what he has got for dinner, peering over the railings to see the orange glow of the lantern light reflect off of the emerald green and sapphire blue sea below them.

After his food, he settles down on a stair case that leads up to the Officer's deck where the ship is sailed from, he feels the cold wind more easily now, tugging at his clothes and turning his skin ice cold; it's refreshing. His mind starts to wonder again. This time about how he doesn't want to fight anymore, he's fought enough in his short life of twenty years already. But he must; it is his duty as a Knight to fight. Richard feels conflicted by this, maybe if he didn't have his past, maybe if – that – didn't happen, he would be a better man. Maybe he would have relished this opportunity for more vicious fighting and glory. Soon after these thoughts lay siege to Richard's mind, he drops his head to his hands in shame. 'It was all fathers' fault. If he didn't send me to fight, again, I wouldn't be remembering all this. If he didn't send me to fight when I was really just a boy, then I wouldn't feel like this either!' Richard thought. Before his mind is encompassed wholly by this, he hits his head on the palm of his hands to regain some thought.

He slowly stands and shivers at the wind which is now turning harsh. He uses the railing and guides himself back to his cabin under deck. It is immediately warmer out of the wind and he decides to join a group of crewman all drinking in the galley. A distraction is better than sitting in his cabin alone. The Knight puts on a smile and asks for a drink, he gets handed two tankards but takes the one from a familiar crewman. "So, Sir, how're you finding that nice cabin from Lieutenant Thatcher?" The crewman's voice was familiar also; it was the man who had called him to dinner.

"So that was the man the cabin belonged to, it is suitable. Where is the Lieutenant now?" Richard asked. He joins them all at the table and takes a swig of the cider. It is a large wooden table that could easily fit eight men at it, but there was now only five, including Richard.

"The Lieutenant was an arse. He's sleeping with the rats, on the cargo deck. He wouldn't have himself, a man of apparent 'great stature' to sleep with us lot." Another crewman who was skinny and was bald said as he looked at the Knight's fine clothes.

"So we all know you're a Knight. But who are you? If you don't mind me asking." An old wrinkled crewman asked.

"I am Sir Richard Hill. Third son of Lord Edmund Hill, the Lord of the Riverspring and Lake Castle." Richard said. "I was sent by my father to join the crusade on his behalf and command a company of the Great Army."

All of the crewman looked in surprise and the old one in shock. "So you're pretty noble and important then?" The old crewman asked while taking a sip of his cider.

"I suppose you could say that," Richard said "But I don't consider myself to be that important in the scheme of things." Richard finishes off his cider. They talk for a good while until Richard starts to become tired. "I must be off; I have to write a letter to someone."

Richard takes his leave after a short farewell and goes back to his cabin. In reality, he had no intention of writing a letter; he just needed an excuse to leave the men for his own cabin. Once at his cabin, he became quite tired and set down to sleep.

Dawn had broke and the waves were gently rocking the ship side to side. The Knight awoke with a burst of energy, like a coil in his chest; he was full of life. The Knight realised he didn't undress since last night, but saw no reason to bother changing just yet, they were still somewhat fresh and clean. As he rose out of bed, the lantern caught his eye; it was gently swinging with the rocking of the ship and had left scars and had made itself a little groove by swinging so much. An odd thing for his eye to capture, but he thought it rather homely. Although the lantern itself wasn't lit anymore.

Richard left his swinging lantern and his cabin and climbed up to the top deck. Already, a full day's sail away from England and it was already hotter and sunnier; this was the weather of France. It was rather humid, he could already see crewman sweating as they went about their roles on the ship. The soldiers were also going about more mundane chores, such as washing and cleaning the deck and railings as well as taking turns for sentries at the bird's nest, forecastle, and castellations on the deck. Those at the rearcastle didn't seemingly do much apart from drink and take turns on their sentry; they didn't move to other sentry positions like the others did.

He walked up the steps to the Officer's Deck where Invictus was controlled from and to the rearcastle. The guards there already knew who Richard was and didn't challenge him; knowing he is a noble Knight. There were eight men in the rearcastle, with four on lookout. "Mind if I have a drink with you lot?" Richard asked; knowing he couldn't be refused.

"Yes my Lord, only water up here for us guardsmen though I'm afraid. The beers are below deck." Said the guardsman closest to Richard, handing him a flask of water. This guardsman didn't have a helmet on and had long brown hair down to his shoulders. All of the guardsmen wore leather armour and gambesons when on sentry and most just wore their linens when not on sentry.

"I'm not a Lord, I'm a Knight. You would call me Sir, not Lord." Richard said, taking the flask of water. "Thank you for the water guardsman." He took a sip of the water and asked "So, what is it that you four do when not on lookout?"

A scrawny lad of around sixteen spoke up. "We sit and drink, relax, spar, and enjoy the weather, Sir." He said looking at the Knight with interest. The scrawny lad's hair was close cut and blonde, his sun-kissed skin made the blondeness of his hair stand out even more. "Before you turned up, we were about to spar, if that might interest you, Sir."

Richard looked at the scrawny lad with curiosity and bewilderment; 'did this lad just challenge me to a sparring match with him?' He thought. Sir Richard looked to the other guardsmen to ascertain whether they would relish the chance to fight an anointed knight such as himself. They looked slightly worried at the prospect of sparring with a Knight, but they couldn't refuse as otherwise they'd be mocked by the scrawny lad and the rest of the crew. "Alright Sir, we will all spar, but perhaps a one on one first. We have these training swords to spar with." The guardsman with long hair handed Richard one of the training swords as he spoke. "The lad is still learning how to fight with 'em. Go easy on him."

Graciously taking the sword the Knight proclaimed "I will take it slowly and fight fairly. Ready yourself scrawny lad!" He raised his sword to the lad and adopted a side facing fighting stance. The lad looked suddenly worried as the long haired guardsman threw a practice sword, gauntlets, and helmet to him; he hadn't been given the chance to voice any objection. As Richard faced down his opponent, he began with a few basic swings, first a swing to the lad's right leg, then head, then side; he ensured that he did this slow enough for the scrawny lad to block in time. The lad counted the side blow and started attacking the Knight at a fast pace and tried to drive Richard backwards by advancing but the Knight held firm and pushed the lad back; landing a blow to his sword arm, disarming the lad.

"Not too bad…" Richard said slowly with a hint of criticism in his voice. "You need to grip the sword less, it is a part of your arm; a part of your arm won't fall off by itself. Try again." As he spoke, he readied himself for another spar, seeing that the lad is fine to continue. The scrawny lad attacked first this time, being quickly thrown off balance by Richard and then pressed into retreat as the Knight hounded him with a barrage of attacks. The lad kept up with Richard but faltered on his footwork; the lad tripped over his own feet and landed on the deck with the sound of laughter filling the air around them both from the guardsmen. Richard helped the scrawny lad up with his free hand and congratulated him. "That's some good work being able to keep up with that, you just need to be more careful."

The Knight looked over at the other three guardsmen. "Are you three going to join in or not?" He beckoned to get them over. They gave each other a slightly nervous look and approached Sir Richard with swords in hand. Behind the long haired guardsman was a man with a mighty black beard and no hair on his head, with scars littering his face. "Lad!" the bearded man bellowed, "Get here now!" the scrawny lad joined the other three. The all approached in unison, spread out slightly as Richard stood firm, looking at them all at once with a stern look on his face. All of a sudden swords clashed, Richard has struck and was advancing upon the four, landing blows upon the long haired guardsman and blocking any counters from him and the others. Richard advanced relentlessly, breaking their loose formation and singling out the long haired guardsman and striking him on the back of the knee, forcing him to the floor. He yielded. At this time, the scrawny lad tried to land a blow on the Knight but the blow was side stepped; narrowly missing the long haired guardsman. Richard advanced again at the remaining three with the training sword swinging like a wild beast as he deflected each strike from the three and landing multiple counter-blows on them in return. The scrawny lad tripped again, falling backwards into some barrels which softened his fall slightly. Each sword was struck countless times as they whirled in the air, however with only two opponents left, the Knight made short work of them; felling one with a blow directly to the chest and the bearded man by disarming him.

Sweat was dripping down his forehead, covering his entire body in a film of sweat. He looked at the four defeated guardsmen all on the floor looking up at him; still in stance, cautiously waiting to see if one dares to try once more. The four were all exhausted and could barely believe at how skilled Richard was; he lived up to the tales that're told about knights being indomitable in battle. "Bloody hell… Sir, your talent with a sword at your age is unheard of…" What was said was slightly muffled with wheezes from the bearded man. "Please, give our lad some guidance so we can take heed as well." The bearded man pleaded in astonishment.

Richard chuckled to himself and let down his guard, moving over to the others to help them up one by one. They all thanked him whilst the scrawny lad fetched more water for the rearcastle. Hours passed on and on, in the end, Richard had taken up to teaching all eight guardsmen in the rearcastle how to fight and work together whilst fighting. At the end of the day, they were all tired but the guardsmen had already made some progress. Dusk had set, and the Knight had set about back to his cabin with a meal of day-old meat, lemon, and fish; served with bread and onion.

The lantern was already lit, presumably by one of the crewman during their duties. He set the food down on his desk and checked his belongings to ensure nothing was missing; not one bit was out of place. Taking the quill and parchment the Knight set about writing about what had happened thus far on his journey as he ate. It was a calm evening, as the Knight finished his meal and writings; setting down on the bed to sleep, he fell asleep remarkably quickly on such a calm evening.


End file.
